


Unavowed

by LucreziaJames



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-09-18 18:16:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9397238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucreziaJames/pseuds/LucreziaJames
Summary: When Rita Skeeter published a biography of Tom Riddle, Hermione embarks upon a mission to discover what lead a small orphan to become the darkest wizard of all time.  Vowing to stop history repeating itself, she opens a home for children born to muggle parents who cannot handle their outbursts of accidental magic.  The largest annual donation comes from an anonymous donor: M.  What will happen when Hermione seeks to find M to show him the good his money has achieved?





	1. August 2000

Two years after the fall of the darkest wizard ever known, Wizarding Britain was still navigating the murky waters that ebbed and flowed through the lives of those who had been at the epicentre of the most horrendous period in their history.  

 

Harry and Ron had completed auror training; with several Death Eaters still at large their caseload didn’t show any signs of abating any time in the near future.  Having passed her N.E.W.T.s with flying colours, Hermione had embarked on carving out a political career in a Ministry that was focused on rebuilding, reshaping and reinventing.  

 

After the fallout of the war, as the dust had settled, both literally and figuratively, Harry and Ginny had wed.  It was a quiet affair, away from the glitz and glamour that all too often surround the ‘Golden Trio’, and threatened to suffocate them.

 

Ginny had accepted a position on the Harpies reserve team, training and matches taking up most of her time during the playing season which just so happened to coincide with the school year.  With just two days before the start of the new term and the quidditch season, Harry, Ginny, Hermione and Ron had braved the crowds they normally felt compelled to avoid for a lunch and shopping trip.

 

As they made their way down the cobbled streets of the alley, Hermione frowned at the crowds that were gathering outside Flourish and Blotts.  

“Strange,” she murmured, her eyebrows knitting together as she watched the children darting in and out of the adults. 

Ron chuckled beside her.  “You know that’s exactly how excited you always got about getting the new year’s books,” he reminded her, laughing at the blush that crept across her cheeks.

 

“Yes, alright, I admit I got a bit overzealous in my youth, but that’s not what I mean: the last time I saw crowds behaving like this outside Flourish and Blotts, it was for Gilderoy Lockhart’s book signing…” her words trailed off as the colour drained from her face, realisation dawning.

“I forgot that was today,” she commented, sharing a pained look with Harry as the crowds parted and the figure of Rita Skeeter was seen wooing the crowds, her ironically timed entrance causing bile to rise in Hermione’s throat as Ron ground his teeth next to her.

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I am truly humbled,” Rita crooned, then paused for dramatic effect, before flashing her trademark saccharine smile.  “That you should be so eager to read ‘The Charismatic Charms of the Late and Great Tom Riddle’,” again she paused as a murmur hummed through the crowd.  “But fear not, there are plenty to go around and I will be here all day to sign your copies,” she announced with a flourish, before gliding inside the bookshop.

 

Hermione shuddered as she watched on, turning to Ginny who was in the midst of a panic attack.  Harry pulled his wife into the tea rooms, ordering her a cup of Camomile to soothe her nerves, waving Hermione away.  “I’ve got her, you should not let Skeeter stop you from picking up the books you ordered,” he told her when she tried to protest.

 

“The nerve of that woman,” Ron hissed, anger building in his chest as he looked back towards the tea rooms.

“Go,” Hermione whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“But Harry…” Ron began, the conflicting emotions flickering in his eyes.

Hermione smiled. “Go to your sister.  I’ll be back shortly,” she whispered, giving his hand a squeeze as he nodded.

 

Ducking into the shop, Hermione kept her head down in the hope that the crowds would be too preoccupied with Skeeter and her grandstanding antics to notice her.  She had been looking forward to coming to the bookshop: perusing the new titles; watching the delight on the faces of children collecting their texts for the new school year.  Slinking in the shadows was such a let down.  

 

Nausea rose from the pit of her stomach as her gaze drifted, the stacks and stacks of Skeeter’s biography, the emerald cover taunting her as she made her way to the counter.  It was like being witness to a car-crash, Hermione vaguely mused to herself, as she felt herself compelled to pick up a copy, idly turning the pages.

 

Absently, one foot in front of the other, she drifted to the counter, glancing up from the page she found herself strangely enraptured by.  She gave the details of her order to the shopkeeper, unable to stop herself being pulled back into the book while she waited.

“Anything else, Miss?” the shopkeeper asked, one eyebrow raised.

 

Hermione looked down at the book in her hands, momentarily indecisive.  Later, when asked, she would have no explicit reason for what had compelled her to hand the shopkeeper the book, chewing her fingernails nervously as he ran up the bill.

 

* * *

 

Hermione was vaguely aware of the sound of the key in the lock as she pulled another file from the box and began spreading the parchment across the coffee table in front of her.  Her eyes scanned the typed pages, reports from Wool’s orphanage, as she absently reached for her cup of tea.  Her fingers knocked against the fine china cup causing it to topple off the stack of books it had been perched precariously on top of.  

 

Hermione jumped, her left hand reaching for her wand but to her relief, the liquid froze mid air.  Looking up she saw Ron standing to the side of the couch, wand in hand as he righted the cup, saving her tea.  Sighing heavily, he came to sit beside her, reaching across to brush the loose curls that had fallen from her messy bun, held in place by a spare quill, framing her face.  She looked tired he thought, as he took in the circles under her eyes, the lines on her face, and the tell tale signs of dry eyes from spending so long reading.  

 

Ron looked tired, Hermione observed, as her eyes scanned his face, taking in the dark shadow under his eyes, the crow’s feet forming in the corners, the dryness of his fingers as his thumb caressed her cheek.  He had been working on a case with Harry that neither of them could tell her about.  It was frustrating not knowing where he was, what he was doing or when he would next be home.  

 

“What’s all this?” Ron asked, gesturing to the boxes that surrounded the coffee table.

“Research,” Hermione responded vaguely, shifting in her seat as she watched Ron’s expression harden.

“What research?” he pushed, his hand going to the open file, lifting the cover sheet.  Inside were pictures, some muggle, others magical.  Most showed a small boy at various ages, his cold vacant unsmiling features staring back at the lens.  One final picture, creased and faded from exposure to light, showed a rocky outcrop surrounded by water.

 

Hermione pursed her lips, bracing herself for the inevitability of Ron’s reaction.  When it didn’t come, she stole a glance at him as he silently replaced the photos, before rising from the couch.  Frowning slightly, she watched as he made his way over to the sideboard, his fingers grasping the bottle of firewhiskey.  She listened to the dull scrape as he unscrewed the cap, his back to her.  She closed her eyes, jumping slightly at the sound of him slamming a tumbler down on the wood despite preparing herself for the expected action.  

 

Anger radiated from his tense shoulders.  Hermione could feel the anger in his eyes despite the fact that he had yet to turn around.  She heard him hiss as he pulled the glass from his lips, stilling his hand as he returned it, turning his hand slightly, his eyes fixing on some indistinct feature in the corner of the room.

 

“How long?” Ron asked, the question catching Hermione by surprise.  He made it sound like she had been having an affair.  

Hermione’s frown deepened as she considered his words.

“How long have you been digging up things that are better left in the past?” Ron hissed.  Hermione listened to the tone of his voice.  Anger.  Hurt.  Betrayal.

She chewed her bottom lip, dragging her teeth over the plump flesh as Ron turned around, finishing the contents of his glass in one gulp.

He watched her expression change.  Anguish.  Bewilderment.  Anger.

He slammed the tumbler down on the sideboard, striding across the room, grabbing his jacket from where he had left it slung across the back of the worn armchair that sat in the corner.  

“Where are you going?” Hermione cried, rising from the couch, clambering over a box in the process.

“Out,” Ron replied gruffly as he yanked on his jacket roughly.  

“Ron!” Hermione cried as she reached the front door just as he slammed it shut.

 

Dejected, Hermione returned to her spot on the sofa, staring at the pages and pages of parchment scattered across the surface of the coffee table, surrounded by boxes stamped with the Ministry emblem.  Momentarily, she too wondered what she was doing.  Her gaze drifted to the recently slammed front door.  She hated fighting with Ron, but that was all they seemed to do.  Their silent fights were the worst: the atmosphere between them tense, wordless and painful, the anger and hurt in the looks they gave each other causing the fissures in their relationship to widen until they stood on opposite sides of a great chasm.

 

Pulling the inside of her cheek between her teeth, she went through her mental rolodex, shaking her head with a small sigh as she realised there was no one on there she could call.  No one who would understand.  They would all react the way that Ron had.  Straightening her back, she swallowed hard, finding her resolve once more, she picked up her quill and began to write.

 

* * *

 

Hermione shifted in her seat, smoothing non existent wrinkles out of her navy pencil skirt.  Hearing the door open, her eyes shot up as she sucked in a breath, her shoulders slumping slightly as her eyes met the dark eyes of Theo Nott as he stepped inside the small ante office.  

“Granger,” he greeted with a cordial nod of his head, no malice in his voice.

“Nott,” Hermione replied with an equal amount of politeness.

“Here to see the Minister?” Theo inquired, taking the seat beside her, stealing a glance in her direction.

Hermione folded her hands in her lap, nodding.

“Good, good,” Theo replied, his eyes fixing on the artwork adorning the opposite wall.  He frowned at what was apparently titled ‘ Anthropometry: Princess Helena.’  He shifted nervously in his seat, the grip on his expensive leather briefcase tightening.

 

Hermione glanced sidelong at Theo, observing the way he paled as they waited.

She swallowed, her tongue darting out to wet her lip.  “I’m here to talk to the Minister about a proposal,” she told him quietly.

Theo turned at her words, eyebrow raised.  “I’m interviewing for an internship,” he replied, his gaze returning to the painting.

“Law?” Hermione asked, her curiosity piqued.

Theo shook his head.  “Accountancy.”

“Ah,” Hermione replied, a half smile gracing her lips.

Theo frowned, turning to her.  “It’s not what you think,” he insisted, watching as her half smile turned into a smirk as her eyes met his.

“No?”

Theo shook his head.  “No.  That’s exactly  _ why _ I want the internship.  It’s time to end corruption.”

Hermione opened her mouth, the reply already formed on her lips as the door opened once more, Kingsley Shacklebolt striding in exuding sophistication and confidence with every step.

“Hermione! Welcome! Come into my office,” his deep velvety voice causing her eyes to light up.

“To be continued,” Theo smirked, raising one eyebrow at her, enjoying the way she blushed as she retrieved her briefcase, her eyes meeting his as he extended her hand.

“Good day, Hermione,” he smiled, watching as she folded her petite hand into his much larger one, grasping his fingers with matched firmness.  

“Good day, Theodore,” she replied.

 

* * *

 

Kingsley pursed his lips as he read, his gaze occasionally drifting up, catching sight of Hermione as she tried to suppress her nervousness.  He tried not to laugh as his voice caught her off guard.

“This is a lot to undertake, Hermione.  Are you sure this is what you want to do?” he asked, scrutinising her carefully.  “You are only twenty years old,” he reminded her with a pointed look.  

Hermione smiled, her eyes matching the intensity of his gaze.

_ “Ah, there’s the Hermione I was looking for,”  _ Kingsley noted to himself as he watched her nervousness evaporate.

“Minister, I am sure you will agree that while chronologically I may only just be growing up, I grew up a long time ago.  Do not allow my young age to fool you.  I am very much aware of the challenges my proposal will involve and I am more than ready and able to undertake them.  Further, I feel that this is something that is more than necessary: it is vital; and there is no one more suited to this.”

 

Kingsley held up a hand, smiling warmly at her.  “I meant no offence, Hermione.  I was meerly checking, for my own piece of mind, that you are aware of the full impact of what you are suggesting.  To open a home for children who are born to muggle parents who struggle with their magical children is a noble cause and you are correct, there is no one more suited to providing them with the care and attention they will need as well as the understanding and compassion the role would require.  I just want you to be absolutely sure that you can fulfill this role without it wearing you down.”  Placing the parchment on his desk, he leant forward, his palms coming together, lips resting on his fingertips as he considered his next words.

 

“Do you have the full support of your friends,” he asked, carefully watching the subtle reaction in her eyes to his words.

“Yes,” Hermione answered, watching the flicker across his eyes that read: Liar.

Neither said a word for a moment.  “You will need to work closely with Minerva on this,” he informed her, watching her eyes light up.

“Is that a yes then Minister?” She couldn’t help the excitement in her voice.

“I trust you, Hermione.   I trust that you will approach this with a level head.  But,” he gave her a look that reminded her of the way her father would subtly lecture her.  “Do not isolate yourself.  You have broad shoulders but they cannot take the weight of the world forever.”

 

Hermione nodded, sliding forward on her seat as Kingsley took his quill and signed the forms that would provide her with her initial funding.  “I will be assigning someone to you who will act as a liaison here at the Ministry,” he told her as he wrote.  “All further funding will be accrued via donations which will be overseen by the liaison.  He will also be your accountant and will prepare a financial report once a year.”

 

Hermione nodded her understanding as Kingsley sat back, his eyes twinkling.  “I have just the man in mind,” he told her rising and going to the door.  Hermione twisted round in her seat as he opened the door, her eyes meeting Theo’s.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With love as always to my beta team x

**August 2010**

Hermione poured the hot water over the tea leaves, the gentle aroma of the fresh Earl Grey tea drifting up causing her to sigh gently. Hearing the sharp rap of the door knocker, she placed the lid on the teapot to allow the tea to brew as she moved through the cottage to open the door.

"Theo," she smiled as she pulled the door open, watching him tuck his tall frame under the thick oak beam as he ducked into the lounge, waiting while Hermione closed the door.

He followed her through the cottage into the kitchen, seating himself at her large oak farmhouse table as she finished preparing the tea, bringing it over as he unclasped his briefcase. Pulling out the files, he waited while she poured the tea before getting down to business.

"As you know, Hermione, it is time for me to prepare the annual statements for the Ministry," Theo began as Hermione lifted the teacup to her lips, sipping as she listened. "I have spent the last couple of weeks going through the accounts and financially you are doing well," he informed her, as he pushed the financial summary sheet towards her.

Hermione placed her cup it's saucer, taking the sheet, eyes scanning the document as Theo continued. "As you can see your most generous benefactor has made his annual donation bringing your current balance to 50,000 galleons." Hermione hummed thoughtfully.

"I would like to find out who this mystery benefactor, 'M' is," Hermione told him, glancing up as Theo shook his head.

"We have been over this, Hermione," Theo sighed as Hermione rolled her eyes. "The donations are anonymous. Whoever it is, they do not want you to know their identity."

Hermione twisted around in her seat. "But Theo, whoever it is should see what is being done with their money."

Theo handed her a sheet of parchment. "They already do, dear, they see one of these every year," he told her. Hermione glared as the slight condescension in his tone.

"That's not what I mean," she scoffed, waving the paper away. "It's not about how I spend their money. I want them to see what sort of legacy they have created here."

Theo grinned, opening his briefcase once more. "They know, Hermione," he told her, handing her a copy of the morning edition of The Prophet. Hermione narrowed her eyes once more as she read.

"Have you ever wondered if maybe you need glasses," Theo quipped, causing Hermione to smack his arm somewhat playfully as she read the article.

"Ow!" Theo complained, rubbing his arm. "All I am saying is that if you have to narrow your eyes like that every time you read, you might want to consider glasses," he grinned as Hermione finished reading the article, pointedly ignoring his remark. She handed him back the newspaper sighing. "That is just a report on the first intake," she shrugged.

"And you don't think 'M' will be pleased to see that out of the five children you provided a home for, three are set to embark upon internships with the Ministry, one is off to teach at Beauxbatons and the fifth has just arrived in Romania to work with Charlie Weasley?" Theo asked, one eyebrow quirked questioningly at her.

Hermione sighed, gesturing with her hands. "You don't understand!" Hermione cried, exasperated. "It's not just those five children. It's all the children. Toby, Hester, Sophia, Gabrielle, and Marc are the tip of the iceberg." Hermione shook her head, growing quiet as footsteps sounded down the stairs, a young boy of eleven coming through the door to the kitchen.

"Morning, Miss Granger," he greeted Hermione quietly, gazing curiously at Theo.

Hermione rose from her seat. "Good morning, Stefan," Hermione replied warmly. "Would you like toast or cereal for breakfast?" she inquired, moving to the pantry.

"Toast please, Miss Granger," Stefan replied, glancing once more at Theo as he shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

Hermione stepped out of the pantry, loaf in hand. "Why don't you go and set up the dining room while Miss Bones wakes the others," Hermione suggested kindly as she placed two slices of bread in the toaster.

"You know," Theo began, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

"Don't," Hermione warned, knowing exactly what Theo was about to say.

"I'm just saying," Theo chuckled, his face cracking into a wide smile. "Things around here could run a bit smoother…" His words trailed off as Hermione spun around, brandishing a dinner knife smeared with butter menacingly at him.

"Things around here run plenty smooth enough!" Hermione cried, eyes flashing with passion.

Theo smirked, enjoying the way she reacted to his teasing.

"You know how I feel about house elves," Hermione sighed turning back to her toast, chastising herself inwardly for rising to his baiting. She spread the butter moodily, her cheeks flushing as Theo continued to grin, returning his attention to the papers.

With a flick of her wand, she levitated the breakfast through to the dining room before settling back into her chair. "Stefan was eight when I found out about him," she told Theo somberly. "The lists you provide me with of children the Ministry are aware of are invaluable but there are always one or two who slip through the cracks, unnoticed and unheard of," she explained, pouring them both a fresh cup of tea from the pot. "When I first came up with this," she gestured vaguely with her hand as Theo lifted his cup to his lips. "I found some information in the archives about a young man called Credence Barebone."

Theo raised an eyebrow curiously. "He had such potential for greatness," she whispered, a touch of awe in her voice. "Do you know what an obscurus is?" she asked, glancing at Theo. He shook his head. "I've heard the term once or twice but I confess I do not know exactly what one is," he told her as Hermione set her cup to one side.

"An obscurus is the manifestation of repressed energy in a magical child," she quietly explained, checking over her shoulder as the children bundled past into the dining room, Susan Bones' dulcet tones reminding them gently to sit prettily. Hermione smiled to herself as she listened to the animated chatter drifting through to the kitchen as Susan shut the door.

"Sadly Credence lost control of his magic and transformed completely, before going on the rampage in New York," she told him with a sigh. "Had I not found Stefan when I did, he could have met the same fate."

Theo sat back, stunned.

"I just.." Hermione began, reaching for her cup before looking up, her warm honey eyes meeting Theo's wide-eyed gaze. "I think 'M' should _know,_ you know," she shrugged simply as she lifted the cup to her lips, wetting them slightly as she hovered the cup meer millimeters from them. She glanced at Theo over the edge of her cup catching the slight flicker of something across his eyes. Indecisiveness? Is that what it was? But before Hermione could figure it out, he shuttered it away, schooling his features.

" _Typical Slytherin,"_ she thought to herself. It was as if that house trained its students until stoicism was a reflex attitude, she considered wryly as she sipped thoughtfully.

Theo watched her intently before sighing as he looked away. "I can't tell you, Hermione. The Ministry has strict rules about anonymous donations," he told her, sorting through his papers in an effort to avoid her curious eyes.

"So, it's a former Death Eater then?" she asked carefully. Theo snapped his head up at her words, his eyes meeting hers. He made no reply but the look on his face told her what she needed to know. "The Ministry has been keeping a close eye on the finances of every former Death Eater since the end of the second war in a bid to stop corruption. They keep records of every donation made over 10,000 galleons," Hermione told him, placing her cup down once more.

"You've done your homework," Theo quipped causing Hermione to flash him a knowing smile. "Don't I always?" she grinned. "I also know that there is no such thing as a truly anonymous donation when the source is a former Death Eater," she told him, leaning forward slightly. "So, are you going to tell me who 'M' is? I know that you know." Hermione gave him a pointed look as Theo matched the intensity of her look. "No, Hermione. I could lose my job," he told her seriously, before flashing her a grin. "And then what would you do without me and my sparkling personality?"

"I'm sure I would survive," she retorted mockingly, laughing as he feigned offence, his hand covering his heart.

"Oh how you wound me," he sighed dramatically.

"Funny," Hermione quipped sarcastically as she cleared away their empty cups and teapot.

"Have you spoken to Potter recently?" he asked casually, scrutinising her reaction carefully.

Hermione continued clearing away the remnants of their tea. "We had our usual monthly dinner last week, and as usual, it was tense," she muttered, closing the cupboard door wearily.

"You would think they would have got over it by now," Theo commented as Hermione turned, leaning against the counter. She shrugged, a sad look washing over her face.

"Ginny just doesn't see this as a betrayal," she gestured vaguely. "She doesn't understand that the whole reason for this is to stop children becoming like Tom or Credence; to stop children going through what we went through," she muttered, her right hand brushing absently over her left forearm. "Harry understands a bit better, but naturally he wants to support his wife and I can't exactly blame him for that," she sighed, hugging her arms to her chest as she tried to keep her emotions in check. "I think she's also a bit bitter about how things fell apart with Ron. She had all her hopes pinned on me becoming her sister."

"You cannot live your life according to the expectations of others," Theo told her, the sincerity in his voice resonating deeply with Hermione as she chuckled wryly. "I'm not sure I know how to live another way," she confessed.

Theo tilted his head to one side as he considered her words. "Well you have managed alright these last ten years," he commented, giving her a pointed look. She looked up at his words and he could see the emotions swimming in them. "Have I?" she asked quietly, tears pricking at the corners. Theo rose from his chair, crossing the room, coaxing her into his arms.

"I'm just so lonely, Theo," Hermione confessed as she allowed him to push her head against his shoulder. His fingers found their way into hair as he felt his Oxford dampen slightly.

"You won't always be lonely," he prophesied, pulling back enough to tilt her chin up to look in her eyes. "And in the meantime, you have me," he told her, wiggling his eyebrows at her in mock seduction.

"Oh stop it," she chastised playfully as she smacked his chest lightly. "You know what I mean and while I love you dearly, that isn't what I meant," she told him, giving him a meaningful look.

Theo's jaw dropped. "You wound me again? Pray tell, what have I done to deserve that you wound me thusly?"

"Oh stop with the amateur dramatics," she chastised, brushing away the stray tears that had tracked down her cheeks unchecked. "I am sure that Blaise would have a thing or two to say if you decided to shack up with me in this little cottage."

Theo glanced around the cottage. "I don't know," he casually replied, "Blaise rather has designs on this little cottage. He was most infuriated that you beat him to the punch when it came to purchasing this humble abode. I don't think he would object too strongly to shacking up with us here," he caught her eye, and for a moment Hermione wasn't entirely sure he wasn't propositioning her on behalf of his lover. Seeing the humour in his eyes, she burst out laughing just before he did, the pair struggling to breathe as Susan came into the kitchen.

"Care to share the joke?" she smiled, as she crossed the kitchen making a beeline for the kettle.

"You don't want to know," Hermione told her, her eyes never leaving Theo's as the pair struggled to maintain composure.

Susan glanced around as she filled the kettle at the tap, looking from Hermione to Theo and back again. "You know what, I think you're right: no, I don't think I do want to know after all," she grinned.

"Right, I must be off, ladies," Theo informed them, placing the paperwork back into his briefcase. "Hermione, do not forget you need to come to the Ministry on Monday to sign the paperwork for the new intake. You have a meeting with Minerva up at the school on Friday, correct?" he glanced up at Hermione who nodded her confirmation.

"And no digging into what we discussed," he told her cryptically, as they shared a look. "Look who I am talking to," he muttered as he shook his head. "Or if you do, try not to get yourself in trouble. Or me sacked for that matter," he sighed as he stood, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to her hair.

"Look after yourself," he murmured into her hair, as Susan offered to see him out. Theo followed her out to the front door silently, before turning to her and leaning down slightly. "Look out for her, Susan. I'm worried about her," he told her sincerely as Susan's eyes widened.

"Of course, Theo," she replied, shocked by his concern, watching as he turned and made his way down the little footpath to apparate back to the Ministry, wondering if she should be as concerned as Theo quite clearly was.


	3. Chapter 3

**September 2010**

 

Hermione took a steadying breath as her fingers gripped the heavy door knocker, rapping it sharply three times.  Heavy footfalls were heard from within, the old oak door creaking as it opened.

“Hermione,” Harry greeted warmly.  “How many times do I need to tell you to just floo here?” he asked, flashing her a lopsided smile as she stepped inside.

 

Hermione shrugged.  “It was a nice day, I thought I’d walk,” she replied casually as she hung up her coat in the hallway, the aroma of roast beef drifting up from the kitchen and making her mouth water.  

“Dinner smells lovely,” she remarked as Harry nodded for her to go down the hall.  “Hi,” she called, stepping into the long bright room, smiling at Ginny as she turned her attention away from the Aga.

“Hey,” Ginny replied cordially as Harry followed Hermione into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of wine from the rack, gesturing to Hermione.

“Please,” she replied, the tension thickening around them.  Hermione watched silently as Harry poured her a large glass, accepting it with thanks, grateful for the ability to take the edge off.

“How’s work?” she asked Harry, inwardly chastising herself for resorting to idle pleasantries so early in the visit.

“Great actually, we have a brilliant intake for the Auror program this year.  I have high hopes for them all,” he remarked, before launching into a passionate monologue about the ways the Ministry was implementing the latest breakthroughs in technology to the department.  Hermione glanced over at Ginny who smiled, rolling her eyes as if to say, “here we go again,” causing Hermione to laugh into her glass as she felt the tension dissipate slightly.

 

Dinner was a semi-relaxed affair until Harry brought up the topic of Hermione’s orphanage, the air around Hermione seeming to drop several degrees suddenly.  Her eyes flicked across to Ginny whose smile faded as her lips went taut.

“I saw the article in The Prophet,” Harry told her, his eyes darting to Ginny before settling back on Hermione.  She shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny.  “It wasn’t my idea,” she mumbled.  “The Prophet wanted to run a special and Theo thought it would be a good idea,” she told him as Ginny politely excused herself.  Hermione shot her a pleading look by Ginny ignored it as she left the kitchen, slamming the door in her wake, the sound causing Hermione to jump as Harry stiffened.

 

“You’ll have to forgive Ginny,” Harry told her, somewhat embarrassed.

“I should go,” Hermione told him shaking her head.

“Please don’t,” Harry told her, reaching out to grab her hand as she made to clear her plate from the table.  Sighing heavily she sat back down.  “I know we haven’t been the most supportive of friends,” Harry began.  Hermione’s eyes went wide, emotions conflicting within.  “You have to understand, it’s the connection to Tom,” Harry continued, his eyes silently pleading with hers.  

“I do understand that Harry,” Hermione sighed.  “I always understood that.  But this is my life and these children mean so much to me,” Hermione confessed, struggling to keep her emotions from bubbling to the surface.

 

Harry nodded.  “I know, and I am sorry.  We should have been there for you.” The sincerity in his voice caused Hermione’s eyes to mist.  Harry came to her side as she brushed the tears away, his arms wrapping around her shoulders, dropping a kiss to her hair.  After a few moments, he pulled away, flashing her a lopsided smile.  “If there is anything I can do to help you, just let me know ‘Mione,” he told her.

 

Hermione dragged her teeth over her bottom lip thoughtfully.  “There may be something,” she began as Harry raised an eyebrow at her.  “I want to find someone.”

Harry frowned at her words.  “Isn’t that Theo’s role? I mean, I am not entirely sure I understand the specifics of his job description…”

Hermione cut him off.  “No, this isn’t something Theo can help with,” she rushed as Harry blinked rapidly in shock.

 

Harry narrowed his eyes at her.  “Hermione, who are you trying to find and why?”

Reaching into her handbag she pulled out an envelope, pushing it across the table towards him.

Harry lifted it up, taking out the parchment.

 

_ Ms. Granger _

_ Please find enclosed my annual contribution to your work. _

_ M _

 

Harry frowned.  “What are you asking me Hermione?” he asked, his stomach twisting in knots as his mind went into overdrive.

Hermione bit down on her lip for a moment in hesitation.  “I want you to find out who M is,” she told him, meeting his eyes with an intense look.

“I’m not sure I understand what you are asking here,” Harry began, his tone even.  “Unless he has committed a crime…” Harry’s eyes went wide.  “Is he blackmailing you?”

Hermione shook her head.  “No, nothing like that.  He just sends me a large donation every year.  But I don’t know who M is.”

 

Harry sat back, shocked by what she was asking of him.  “I don’t have access to that sort of information, Hermione.  And even if I did, it would be a huge violation of trust; an abuse of my position.”

“I realise it would be difficult, but I have reason to believe it is a former Death Eater.  The new legislation regarding former Death Eaters means there are files..”

“No. “ Harry’s firm voice cut her off.  “I cannot and will not go searching for this information, Hermione.”

Hermione nodded.  “It’s getting late, I should go.”

 

Harry said nothing as he watched her grab a handful of floo powder, before turning back towards him, her sad, tired eyes awash with unspoken emotions.  A tired smile formed on his lips as he nodded to her before she disappeared in the flames.

* * *

Hermione scanned the parchment with narrow eyes, her quill poised.  

“Just sign it already,” Theo huffed, bored.  “We’ve already been over what it says.”

Hermione grinned.  “I just want to check you haven’t snuck any secret clauses in for say, I don’t know, the provision of house elves,” she smirked, smirking up at him, her eyes dancing with amusement.

 

Theo’s jaw slacked, eyes wide.  “I didn’t think of that!”

“Yes, well, don’t go getting any ideas.  You know exactly how I feel about house elves,” she informed him curtly.

“I think everyone is acutely aware of how you feel about all manner of magical creatures, Ms. Granger,” the thick aristocratic drawl caused Hermione to spin around in her seat.

Hermione was shocked.  “Malfoy!” Standing from her chair she attempted to retrieve her forgotten manners, extending a hand, her lips pursing as he dismissed her with a wave that reminded her all too much of his father.  

“You don’t have to get up on my account,” he told her, his tone almost apologetic.  He turned his attention to Theo.  “Sorry for interrupting, but as you are aware the deadline you set me expires in a little under five minutes.”

 

Theo sat back in his chair, smirking at Draco.  “Yes, well I wasn’t expecting you to leave it right up to the last literal minute,” he quipped as Draco pulled several pages of stiffly folded parchment from his robes.  The pages cracked as he opened them, glancing about the desk.  His eyes went to Hermione.  “Sorry, but do you mind if I borrow your quill?” he asked, his tone betraying no animosity.  Shocked, Hermione frowned for a moment as she tried to remember what she had done with her quill.  

 

Hermione gasped slightly as her mind registered that it was still firmly in her hand, pinched between her fingers.  She stole a glance at Theo as she tried to make sense of the version of Draco Malfoy stood in front of her accepting the quill she held out to him with thanks.  He was broader than she remembered: the haunting image of his frail, almost ill frame flickering like a candle in her mind.  

 

His one pointed features had softened slightly making him more handsome.  Hermione’s eyes wandered casually over him, her tongue darting out unconsciously to wet her lip- an action that did not go unnoticed by Theo, although he chose to remain silent for now on the matter.  Her gaze drifted to his hands, which had thickened slightly with age and she watched enraptured as he signed his name on the parchment, the quill moving in delicate swirls across the page as he formed the letters of his name:

Draco Malfoy.

 

Hermione’s eyes remained transfixed as Draco folded the papers and handed them to Theo, shock rooting her to the spot utterly speechless.

“Good day, Ms Granger.” Draco nodded politely before striding from the room, leaving a stunned Hermione to snap her eyes suddenly to Theo.  The colour drained from his face as he realised she had recognised the way he wrote Malfoy, the light elegant strokes matching exactly the way the note accompanying her cheques was always signed.

 

“My benefactor is Malfoy?” she whispered, her mind reeling as Theo stood from his chair coming around the desk, panic in his eyes.

“Hermione, there is a reason why the Ministry keeps records of the donations but there is also a reason why they choose to be anonymous in the first place…”Theo began.

“Is this his way of making himself feel better about his part in the war?” Hermione hissed, the bite in her tone causing Theo to stumble back slightly in shock.  His jaw set as he took the fury in her eyes.

“This is exactly what I meant.  People automatically assume that they- that Draco- is only interested in self-preservation…”

“Well, he was sorted into Slytherin,” Hermione scoffed.

Theo flushed with anger.  “So was I, Hermione.  Blaise too.  Are you suggesting that we are all cut from the same Emerald cloth?” The hurt in his voice resonated deeply with her.

 

Neither said a word for several long minutes as they both struggled to contain their emotions.  Finally, Theo spoke.  “Look, I understand your emotions here but you have to put them to one side and let sense prevail here.”

 

Hermione dropped into her chair with a weary sigh.  

“Can I trust you not to do anything stupid with this information?” Theo asked, giving her a pointed look.

“Yes,” Hermione whispered, eyes fixed on Theo as he perched on the edge of his desk.  “It’s just a lot to process.”

“I understand that,” he told her sincerely, carding a hand through his hair.  “I could get into a lot of trouble if you pursue this,” he muttered, looking down at his shoes.  He glanced up, seeing her chew her lip thoughtfully.  “Hermione, I know you want him to know about the children but the anonymity legislation is clear.  Not only could I lose my job but he would be perfectly within his rights to seek legislative recourse against you.”

 

Hermione wet her lip before nodding slowly.  Relief washed over Theo’s face as he pushed himself away from the desk, grabbing his coat.  “Come on you, it’s not often Blaise offers to take us to lunch.  Let’s go blow a hole in his expense account at  _ The Vineyard _ he smiled pulling her to her feet.  “Come on darling, I believe there is a bottle of Pascal Jolivet Indigène with our name on it,” he winked, holding the door open for her.

 

Smiling, Hermione grabbed her things, before slipping out into the hallway, mulling over how to proceed with this new information.  Who would have thought it had been Draco Malfoy this whole time?

  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**October 2010**

Hermione tried really hard.

The first time she bumped into Draco after realising that he was her unknown benefactor she was in the Ministry cafeteria having lunch with Harry.  Reaching into the fridge to take out an iced tea she bumped into his arm as he reached for a sandwich. Mumbling her apology, she bit her bottom lip, half in expectation of a verbal tirade from him and half in an attempt to stop anything more than the apology from spilling out.

As she made her way over to the table where he was sat, Harry frowned at the expression that gave away her cogitation. 

“Everything alright, ‘Mione?” he asked, watching as she came out of her reverie.

“Yeah…” she replied, somewhat distractedly.  

“What was that just now with Malfoy?” Harry asked before taking a bite of his chicken sandwich.

“Oh, nothing.  Absolutely nothing, in fact...” Her frown deepened.

Harry swallowed, smiling at his friend.  “You’re not making much sense, ‘Mione.”

And then as quickly as the subject had come up, it was changed.

 

The second time she bumped into Draco, she was in Diagon Alley having just come out of Flourish and Blotts.  It had been a week since their brush in the cafeteria and she was rather distracted as she left the shop, her new book in her hands. 

“Hello again, Granger,” Draco smiled as he held the door open.

“Oh, sorry.  Thank you,” she rushed as she ducked under his arm.  

Spinning round, she smiled up at him, flushing slightly.

“Everything okay?” he asked, somewhat puzzled by the look on her face.

“Um, yes,” she replied, reaching up to brush a loose curl behind her ear as she hesitated, his casual manner jarring her.

For a moment neither said a word although both was sure the other had something on their mind.

“Well, enjoy your new book,” Draco smiled before bidding her a good day as he slipped inside the shop, leaving Hermione staring at the now closed door.

 

The third time she bumped into Draco, she was just leaving the Ministry, armed with four files of children who she would need to visit.  Her head was all over the place as she tried to sort through her thoughts.  Turning the corner to the floo hall, she almost collided with Draco, who jumped back slightly to avoid spilling his coffee down his suit, Hermione dropping her files in the process.

“Oh Merlin, I am sorry!” Hermione cried, flushing with embarrassment as she reached down to pick up the scattered pieces of parchment, pushing them back in hurriedly.

“It’s okay, Granger, I wasn’t exactly looking where I was going either,” he told her as he crouched to help her.

Hermione’s eyes snapped up to meet his.

“You look like you expect me to bite your head off?” Draco chuckled as he handed her the file he had been putting back together.

“Um. No?” she replied, the questioning lilt at the end almost directed at herself.

“Relax.  You don’t need to behave like a hippogriff caught in the carriage lamps,” he told her as they stood.  Hermione couldn’t help the little giggle that caused Draco to frown.

“Muggles say ‘like a deer caught in the headlights;’ I didn’t know there was a magical equivalent,” she explained.

“Something Hermione Granger doesn’t know, quick, let’s alert ‘The Prophet’!” Draco joked, no malice to his mockery.   “I have some pull there, we could probably hold the front page for such an earth shattering revelation,” he smirked as Hermione rolled her eyes.

“I hope I put that file back together correctly, it looked important,” he stated, nodding to the file he had just handed her.

“Yes, thank you.  It’s children who the Ministry thinks are candidates,” she paused, dragging her teeth across her bottom lip.  “For my home.”

“Ah yes, I had heard about that,” he replied.  “Is it going well?”

Hermione nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“Instead of keep bumping into each other by accident, maybe we should bump into each other with intention?” Draco suggested, casually changing the subject.

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked, furrowing her brow in confusion.

“We could agree a time and a place to bump into each other.  Say, Thursday.  For coffee,” he elaborated.

Hermione nodded once more, trusting herself even less.

Draco smiled as he stepped away, turning as he left.  “I’ll owl you details,” he called, lifting his coffee cup to salute her.

“Draco, wait,” Hermione called as he turned away, causing him to spin on his heel.

“Yes?”

“Um...do you know where to send the owl?” she asked, losing her nerve.

Draco smiled.  “Mercury is a clever bird, I’m sure he will find you.”

* * *

Reaching out her hand tentatively, Hermione’s fingers curled around the brass knocker giving it three firm knocks.  Tucking her hands back into her soft suede coat she shifted nervously on the porch as the door slowly opened to reveal an elderly looking house elf eyeing her curiously.

“Um, hello.  Is..Is Mister Malfoy home?” Hermione asked, attempting to summon up her courage.

“Master Malfoy is being home, yes.  But Master Malfoy is not liking guests who do not send owls first,” the elf informed her curtly.

“I do apologise,” Hermione began, pausing as she tried to decide if coming her had been a good idea after all.  “I should probably go home and send an owl…”

As Hermione turned to leave, the door opened wider.

“Granger?” Draco called, quietly dismissing the elderly elf.  “I thought we were meeting at The Leaky?” he asked her confused.

“Um, yes.  That was the arrangement we made…” she dug her hands down deeper into her pockets as she looked up at him.

“Couldn’t wait to see me eh?” he joked, flashing her a smirk.  “Don’t you want to come in?” he asked, opening the door wider.

“I’m not sure,” she answered, furrowing her brow.

Draco eyed her quizzically.  “Okay, well how about I leave the door open and you can decide if you want to join me in the drawing room?” he offered before disappearing into the house.

Hermione stared after him trying to decide what to do and how to take his suggestion.  As she stared in through the open doorway she saw the elderly elf eying her suspiciously from the shadow cast in the atrium.  

“I is never understanding these witches,” he muttered before pulling a rag from his shirt and trotting over to a vase.

“I’m not sure I understand me either sometimes,” Hermione muttered having caught his words.

 

After a while, Draco appeared in the atrium once more.  “While I have no objection to heating the grounds, I am a little concerned for your health, stood out there in the chill,” he informed her casually, as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, grinning out a her.

Hermione frowned.  “I’m not sure why I came,” she confessed.

Draco stepped forward, leaning casually against the door frame.  “Well, I’m afraid I can’t exactly help you there, Granger,” he chuckled.  “Unless you really could not wait…” he checked his wristwatch.  “Another 50 minutes to see me.”

Pushing himself away from the door Draco called out to her.  “I’m going to pour a cup of tea, can I get you one?”

“I’m not sure,” Hermione replied.  

“Well how about I pour one while you decide, although I must say unless this is a muggle thing I am not aware of, I am not sure that this is the social convention.”

Hermione’s frown deepened as she crossed the threshold.  The elderly elf threw her a look of disdain as he shut the heavy oak front door.  

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked as she followed the sound of his voice.

“Ah, you came in.  Well, that certainly does make it easier to hold a conversation,” he smiled.  “I know I don’t do things the ‘high society’ way but I must say I have never had tea with a lady stood on my porch.”  He gestured for her to sit down.  

“Why are you so nice?” she blurted out suddenly, causing Draco to still his hand as he poured the tea.

“Because I deeply regret my past transgressions,” he murmured quietly, his sincerity resonating with her.  “Especially with regard to yourself.”

Hermione wasn’t sure if silence could possibly have a sound of it’s one; the notion seemed absurd.  But as his words hung in the air, the silence between them buzzed in her ears until it snapped.

“I know,” she admitted, holding his curious gaze.

“Given that you were once titled “Brightest witch of our age,” I am sure there is an abundance of things that you know, however, indulge me a little here and enlighten me as to what specifically it is that you know,” he requested giving her an amused look.

“I know that it’s you who sends me ten thousand galleons annually.  I know that you are M.”

* * *

 

Neither spoke for several tense minutes as the colour drained from Draco’s face, his jaw setting tightly.

“The donations are anonymous for a reason, Granger,” he told her, his voice so cold it caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end.  A flicker of something across his face made her instantly think of his father, the image causing her to shudder.

“I know but…”

Draco cut her off standing up.  “You do not know anything, however, I must say that this is typical of you…”

Hermione rose to her feet, anger flashing in her eyes.  “What, may I ask, is that supposed to mean?”

“That this is typical of your goody two shoes know it all personality.  I bet you couldn’t leave it alone.  I bet you’ve been pestering and researching and doing all you can to find out who it was, rather than just accept the kindness of a stranger,” he spat, angrily.

Hermione flushed as the truth of his words hit home.

“You don’t understand…” she yelled.

“Too right I don’t understand: I don’t understand how someone who has worked so tirelessly as a force for good, who has been so vocal about ending Ministry corruption could abuse her position…”

“I did not abuse my position…”

“Then how did you find out?”

“From you!” she cried.

Draco took a step back, his face contorting into stunned confusion.  “What on earth are you blathering on about?”

Hermione reached into her pocket, slamming the parchment down on the coffee table, glaring at Draco as he snatched it up.

“You signed documents right in front of me in Theo’s office.  Your penmanship gave you away.”

Draco glared at the note he had written for a moment before thrusting it back towards Hermione.  “Irrespective of how you established it was me, what right do you have coming here and informing me so casually that you know?”

“Why my cause?” Hermione shot back, her eyes flashing with untempered anger.

“How I choose to spend my money is no concern of yours, Granger,” Draco returned, his voice dangerously low as he stepped towards her.  “You failed to answer my question.  What right do you think you have?”

Hermione looked up at him, inwardly chastising herself.  This was not how she wanted this conversation to turn out.  “I wanted you to know what is happening with the money,” she replied, her voice quiet.

Draco scoffed turning from her and striding over to the antique bureau at the far end of the room.  Returning he slammed the newspaper on the coffee table.  “Unless it has escaped your notice, Granger, I can actually read.”

Hermione shook her head.  “No, you don’t understand.  I wanted you to see the good.”

Draco stared back at her, something flickering across his ice blue eyes.

The silence between them dragged out for a few moments before a loud buzzing sound made them both jump, the sound registering with Hermione a second later that it was her mobile ringing in her pocket.  Pulling the device out Hermione checked the caller display on the screen.  “Susan,” she murmured as she accepted the call.  “Hello...no?...oh Merlin! I’ll be right there…”  Finishing the call she hung up, her eyes snapping up at Draco’s.

“These children are often broken and damaged, taken from sometimes the most horrendous of situations.  They are hurting and vulnerable.  I just wanted you to be able to see the difference to these children’s lives that is achieved because of you.  I’m sorry.  For everything,” she rushed out, her eyes imploring as Draco stared back at her, his eyes fixed on hers as she disapparated leaving him stunned in her wake.

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

November 2010

 

It had been three weeks since Hermione had shown up on Draco Malfoy’s doorstep unannounced and revealed she had discovered he was her benefactor.  He was beyond angry, but as the weeks had passed the reasons for his anger had fluctuated so much that all Draco knew was he was angry, but not categorically why.  

His first instinct had been to floo to the Ministry and have it out with Theo; an action that proved to be fruitless as Theo wasn’t to blame and when Theo pointed out what Draco knew to be true it had only resulted in worsening Draco’s mood.  

His second instinct had been to continue his sulking upon his return to the Manor and he had yet to pull himself out of his mood.  If he analysed his emotions, he surmised that the overriding feeling was indignation at the sheer audacity that had driven Hermione to seek him out with her knowledge.

It was this feeling that had him now on her doorstep, his knuckles poised millimeters from her heavy oak door, ready to rap them against the worn wood.  The reason for his pause, he considered as he furrowed his brow, was not momentary reconsideration.  No, Draco Malfoy was a calculated man: He never reconsidered a course of action once it was decided, he snorted as he quietly mused, squaring his shoulders.  The reason for taking pause was simply for him to…

His thought remained unfinished as the door opened suddenly revealing a smiling Susan Bones.  Draco’s frown deepened as his painstakingly prepared speech disappeared from his mind as though Susan had muttered obliviate.

“Hermione isn’t here at the moment, but she told me you might stop by,” Susan smiled stepping back and gesturing for him to enter the cottage.    
Draco scowled as he ducked his head under the oak beam.  “Is there anything that witch doesn’t know?” he snarked under his breath.  Susan laughed as she caught his words.    
“Not really, no.  But then that always was Hermione, wasn’t it?”

Draco stopped, his eyes catching Susan’s as he considered her words, realising that in truth, despite the pleasant interactions they had shared prior to their last, he really did not know Hermione.  True, she had always been derided as the bossy little know it all, but he had successfully kept his identity as her benefactor from her for ten years.  Suddenly he found himself questioning how, when she had discovered the fact in something as pedestrian as his signature, she had not made the discovery sooner.  The consideration jarred him for a moment and he found himself, admittedly not for the first time, chiding himself for the small slip for which only he was to blame.    
“I guess,” he replied, as he followed her into the lounge where two young boys sat playing a game of wizard’s chess.

“Enzo, Cassian, this is Mister Malfoy,” Susan smiled as the boys stood, coming to shake his hand politely.“Draco, this is Enzo,” Susan introduced the tall boy with olive skin who looked to be about ten and reminded him of a younger Blaise, before turning to the smaller, pale boy with blond hair who reminded him of a less sneering version of his younger self and who looked to be about eight.  “And this is Cassian.”

“Pleased to meet you, Sir,” Enzo smiled, before the pair returned to their game as Draco watched them curiously.

 

Hearing a shuffling from the doorway, Susan smiled as she crossed the room, placing a reassuring arm around an older boy who stood nervously in the doorway.  “This young man is Stefan,” she informed him nodding for Stefan to accept the hand Draco extended to him.

“Would you like another book, Stefan?” Susan asked the shy boy, gesturing to the worn novel he had finished.  Draco watched as the boy nodded before crossing the room to the bookshelf that took up an alcove in the corner of the room.

 

Susan stood off to one side as she watched Draco quietly observe the children as they went about their chosen activities.  After a few minutes she caught his eye before glancing discreetly in the direction of the kitchen.

“Would you like some tea, Draco?” 

 

Ducking under the beams of the small cottage, he cursed the good breeding that resulted in his towering height, as he found her in the kitchen a few moments later pulling teas out of the cupboard.

“What on earth…”

Susan glanced at Draco raising an eyebrow.

“How can one person have so many teas?” he asked as he came to stand by her side picking up the different boxes frowning at the names.  “Ooooo long,” Draco announced, drawing out the syllables.  “Red bush.  What is a red bush?” he muttered rhetorically.  “Earl Grey.  Who’s he when he’s at home?” 

Susan couldn’t help but chuckle at the way Draco commented on the names as she filled the kettle and placed it on the stove.

“Which would you like?” she asked as she grabbed two cups from the hooks under the cupboard.

Draco quirked an eyebrow as he glanced sidelong at her.  “And precisely how am I supposed to know?”

Susan shrugged.  “Go for the Earl Grey then?” she suggested, a questioning lilt to her tone.

Shrugging in a gesture of acceptance he took a seat at the table as Susan prepared the tea.

“You have questions, I can tell,” Susan smiled as she placed Draco’s cup in front of him a few minutes later.

Draco lifted the cup to his lips as he contemplated her words.  In truth he did not know where to start.

“How long have they lived here?” he asked as he returned his cup to the saucer.

“Let’s see.  Enzo came to us when he was six, Cassian when he was five, and Stefan is a special boy.  He came to us when he was eight,” she explained with a small sigh.  

Draco frowned.  “Why does that make him special?”

“Do you know what an obscurus is?” she asked, glancing across at him.  He shook his head.  “An obscurus is the manifestation of repressed energy in a magical child,” she began, watching as Draco’s eyes widened.  “It is a dark and parasitic force created when a child is forced to repress their talent through physical or psychological abuse. This energy can potentially manifest itself as a separate entity that can erupt in violent, destructive fury.”

Draco sat back, stunned by her words.

“An obscurial is a young witch or wizard who has developed this dark and parasitic force.  An obscurial may lose control when they reach their emotional and mental breaking point, releasing their Obscurus as an invisible destructive wind. In extreme cases, they may physically transform into an Obscurus.”  Pausing, she sipped her tea before fixing her eyes on Draco.  “Had Hermione not found Stefan when she did, this could have been his fate.  He was suffering so much and the muggle authorities wanted to remove him from his home and place him in an orphanage,” she whispered, her voice ragged.  “Hermione wouldn’t allow it.  She knew he could suffer the same fate as Tom Riddle.”

Draco swallowed hard at the mention of the name; a name that even after all these years still sent a chill down his spine.  He opened his mouth to speak but whatever words he had dissolved on his tongue as an almighty crash sounded through the cottage followed by a terrified scream.  Susan and Draco tore from the kitchen following the sounds into the lounge where Stefan lay convulsing wildly on the floor, Enzo comforting a terrified Cassian on the couch.  Susan came to Stefan’s side as Draco watched on horrified.  As the convulsions started to subside, Susan gently soothed him, stroking his hair lovingly while scanning for any obvious signs of injury.

“Hey Cassian, it’s okay,” she coaxed, reaching up to stroke his arm.  “Stefan will be okay, he just needs to rest.”  She turned to Enzo.  “Why don’t you boys go up to your room for a bit?” she suggested to the older boy who nodded, leading Cassian from the room as Susan levitated Stefan onto the now vacant couch.

Draco watched the surreal activity, feeling a strange mix of trepidation and awe as Susan draped a blanket over Stefan who appeared to be sleeping peacefully now.  Sensing Draco’s disquiet, Susan glanced up and smiled reassuringly.  “He will be asleep for about an hour but he will be okay.” she explained as she gestured for him to take one of the armchairs as she sat across from him, watching over Stefan.

“What happened?” Draco asked, confused by what he had witnessed.

“Stefan is still suffering.  What you saw was a seizure brought on by the dark energy that still plagues him.” Susan furrowed her brow.  “Hermione says it’s like a curse and although she has tried everything she can think of, she has yet to find a complete cure for Stefan.  Her research suggests that the older a child is the harder it is to break them away from the energy.  The oldest known obscurial before Stefan was nine when she died.  Stefan is almost twelve.”  She paused, watching as Draco took in this information, his curiosity deepening.

“She has been able to successfully help him channel the energy by helping him with his magic.  He comes home from Hogwart’s at weekends, with special permission from McGonagall, partly because he requires Hermione’s tutelage but also because being at Hogwarts for long periods of time could prove fatal for him.

“In what way?” Draco inquired, glancing over at the sleeping boy.

Susan met his eyes as he returned his gaze to her.  “The boy needs love, Draco.”

A myriad images flickered in Draco’s mind at her proclamation as he felt himself pulled back in time.  There had never been any doubt in Draco’s mind that his mother and father had loved him in their own way, especially his mother with whom he had always had a close relationship.  But it had never escaped his notice that this love had been controlled and at a distance, not the warm affection to which he knew Susan was referring; a love he was was aware Hermione was capable of giving unconditionally.

His thoughts were interrupted by the roar of the floo, followed by the dulcet tones of Hermione as she called her greetings through the house as she came into the lounge.  Her eyes met Draco’s across the room and for a moment neither spoke as she braced herself for his verbal tirade and he attempted to locate his previous anger.  

 

Hermione’s gaze dropped to the sofa, her face a picture of concern as she took in the sight of Stefan lying sleeping on the couch.  “He had another seizure,” Susan informed her quietly as they shared a look.

“Poor boy,” Hermione replied as she brushed her hand over his forehead before glancing back at Draco, his expression unreadable as he stood, crossing the room to her silently.  Hermione dragged her teeth nervously across her bottom lip, looking up at him.

“I’d like to help.” His unexpected words left her speechless.  “Can I take you to dinner?”

Hermione ignored the expression of sheer delight on Susan’s face that she caught out of the corner of her eye as she nodded.

“Okay.”


	6. Chapter 6

December 2010

 

Hermione frowned at her reflection in the mirror, smoothing her hands over her dress.

“I’m still not sure,” she muttered as her frown deepened, the lines in her forehead causing Susan to tut as she looked up from her copy of Witch Weekly.

“Honestly woman, you will make yourself age a decade doing that,” Susan chided, shaking her head.  

Hermione relaxed her forehead as she quirked an eyebrow at Susan, her petite hands gripping her waist as she spun on her heel.

“Are you sure this outfit is appropriate?” Hermione questioned her as a loud rap of the door caused Susan to fling her magazine to one side while simultaneously jumping from Hermione’s bed.

“You look gorgeous,” Susan breathed as she rushed down the stairs to open the front door.

Hermione groaned as she followed Susan out of her bedroom.  “That’s not what I asked!”

 

Susan pulled the front door open, ushering Theo and Blaise in.  “Tell her she looks gorgeous,” Susan smiled as the two wizards greeted her with a kiss of the cheek. 

“You look gorgeous!” they chorused amusedly as Hermione rolled her eyes.  

“That isn’t what I asked!” Hermione cried, frustratedly.

 

Blaise regarded her quizzically.  “What did you ask?”

“Whether this dress is appropriate,” Hermione replied, gesturing to her outfit as Theo took her hand, turning her around.

“What’s the occasion?” Blaise inquired, scrutinising her carefully.

“She has a date with Draco Malfoy,” Susan gushed before Hermione could answer.  Clamping her mouth shut, Hermione pursed her lips for a moment as Blaise’s eyes went wide and the colour drained from Theo’s face.

“It’s not a date,” Hermione hissed.

“What did you do?” Theo asked, the slight bite to his tone causing Hermione to roll her eyes once more. 

“I didn’t do anything,” Hermione rushed, avoiding the look he gave her as she grabbed her cardigan from where it was draped over the back of a chair.

 

Theo watched the slight flush creep across Hermione’s skin.  “Hermione Granger, you promised!” he scolded, throwing his hands up in the air as he collapsed into a wingback chair.

“Oh, honestly, Theo, you are worrying about nothing.  He was fine!” Hermione replied somewhat distractedly as she pulled her cardigan on, fixing her hair.

Theo regarded her sceptically as Susan grinned.  “Only because I calmed him down.  He was pretty pissed when he got here.”

Hermione’s eyes snapped to Susan’s as Theo dropped his head in his hands groaning loudly.

“You’re not helping,” Hermione snapped as she grabbed her purse.

“I know,” Susan grinned sarcastically as she winked.

“Anyone going to clue me in here?” Blaise asked looking at each of his friends.

 

Theo lifted his head, dragging his fingers down his face as he inhaled sharply. “This one couldn’t leave it alone as to who was funding all this,” he replied, gesturing vaguely to the house.  

“And I presume that is our dear reformed death eater Draco?” Blaise interjected, grinning broadly.

Theo made an affirmative noise.

“I see, and how did we get from ‘Draco Malfoy is my benefactor’, to ‘Draco Malfoy is my lover’?” he smirked as he made his way to the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine and glasses, his question causing Susan to giggle much to Hermione’s chagrin.

“He is not my lover!” Hermione cried, her slight flush deepening to full on crimson.

“Not yet he isn’t,” Susan smirked.

 

Hermione narrowed her eyes.  “I hate you.”

“No you don’t, you love me,” Susan retorted playfully.

“I do, but you really should push off to Seamus’s because you really are not being helpful,” Hermione complained as Susan glanced at her wristwatch.

“I should, but I like to keep him on his toes and winding you up is fun,” she grinned.

“Ridiculous,” Hermione muttered as Blaise handed her a glass of Sauvignon Blanc that she accepted gratefully.

“So about this date…”

“It’s not a date,” Hermione insisted cutting him off.  “It’s a business meeting.  Over dinner.  At ‘The Ivory Wand’,” she clarified, ignoring the look Blaise was giving her.

“‘The Ivory Wand’ is the most exclusive restaurant in Diagon Alley,” Blaise informed her.  “If that is where Malfoy is taking you, it is a date.”

“It’s so not a date,” Hermione retorted, finishing her wine and shoving her glass into Blaise’s hand before crossing the room and grabbing a handful of floo powder as he chuckled.

“It so is!” he called after her, laughing as the emerald flames whisked her away.

* * *

 

Hermione nervously sipped her wine as the waiter cleared away their dishes.

“So, tell me what inspired you to choose this for your life?” Draco asked as he folded his napkin.

Taking a finger, she traced the rim of the glass as she chewed on the inside of her cheek, considering his question.  “I guess I have Rita Skeeter to thank…” she began, causing Draco to scoff.  Their eyes met for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised, realising she was serious.

“It was her biography that got me thinking,” Hermione clarified.

“You read that garbage?” Draco asked, quirking an eyebrow in disbelief.  Even for someone pretty much universally regarded as a bookworm that little insight seemed extraordinary.  Skeeter was well known to be nothing but a troublemaker, Draco considered, with it being similarly universally acknowledged that her previous foray into celebrity biographies had been nothing more than embellished drivel from a hack journalist.

 

Hermione smiled, understanding his train of thought.  It was a well known fact that Hermione did not like Rita Skeeter, and that she had her own brand of retribution for the witch and her distasteful articles regarding The Golden Trio.  

“Somewhere between the lines that had been thickly coated in fiction, was a truth: a truth of a young boy, conceived in tragic circumstances, abandoned to a life in a system that left him not only self sufficient but self dependent.  More than a loner, he was someone who actively chose isolation.  A child with extraordinary talent but also with a desire to control and to hurt.  A child who learnt how to employ his natural charisma in order to manipulate others so that they would feel they were the centre of his world until he dashed them against a rock simply because it gave him pleasure.”  Hermione paused as Draco took in her words, the flicker of empathy in his face not going unnoticed by her.  She tilted her head to one side, changing her tact.

“Do you know what it was that allowed Harry to survive the night Voldemort killed his parents?” She watched as the question took Draco aback slightly.

Smiling she answered her rhetorical question.  “Love, Draco.  Love is a powerful force; old magic.  And it really is that simple, as clichéd as it sounds.”  She shrugged thoughtfully as she lifted her glass to her lips, stilling her hand.  “Love is all broken children need to heal.”

 

Draco took in her words, stunned by the simplicity of her solution.  He thought of his own childhood and wondered, not for the first time, if with a bit more love from his Father, things might have turned out differently.  Oh he did not doubt that Lucius had loved his wife and child in his own dysfunctional way, considering the sacrifices he made, however misguided they were.  But his Father had loved him at a distance, under layers and layers of indifference.  Not in the open way that Hermione spoke of, the same love that she had always been able to display to her friends.  The love that the boy he had been derided, and the man he now was craved.  He sat back, awestruck by her words and the passionate way she had expressed them, regarding her with newfound respect as the waiter placed their souffles in front of them.

 

“I meant what I said,” Draco spoke as the waiter disappeared, causing Hermione to look up, her spoon poised, breath catching in her throat as she waited for his clarification.

“I want to help.”

“You already do,” she smiled but Draco shook his head.

“No, Granger.  I want to help you.  I want to be hands on, not just a financier,” he insisted, gripping his napkin.  “I know what people think of me, even now.  I know people think that people like me just throw money at people like you to assuage our guilt through altruism,” he told her, a bitter edge to his voice as he looked down at the hand that currently had a death grip on his napkin.  “That’s why I kept it anonymous all these years.  I don’t want people to think my actions over the years have been superficial.  I promise you I do not sleep easier at night simply because I sign my name to a cheque once a month…”

Hermione reached across the table, her small hand squeezing his larger one, her soothing touch simultaneously startling and relaxing him.  Looking up, his steely eyes met her warm honey gaze.

“If I thought that, Draco, I wouldn’t be here.”

* * *

 

Opening the little gate to the footpath of her cottage, Hermione turned and, in her nervousness, almost stumbled into Draco.  Blushing, she smiled up at him.

“Thank you for dinner, Draco, and thank you for accompanying me home.”

Draco nodded politely, smiling down at her.  He found her nervousness endearing.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she murmured as he reached out, brushing a loose curl behind her ear, his touch causing her skin to tingle.

“Goodnight, Granger,” he whispered, before pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, then stepping backwards, his eyes locked on hers.  Instinctively, Hermione raised her fingers to where his lips had been, her heart pounding in her chest as he disapparated.  Lost in thought, she turned and made her way into the cottage, making a beeline straight for the kitchen and more wine, almost on autopilot but not without noticing the pair acting like teenagers on her couch.  

 

“You two are ridiculous,” she called through to the lounge as Theo and Blaise made themselves more presentable.

“Never mind us, how was your not-a-date-date?” Theo grinned as he sat up on the sofa, Blaise sitting back on his heels, twisting to reach for their wine glasses for Hermione to refill.  She quirked her eyebrow at him as she did so.

“My not-a-date-date was exactly that,” she mocked as Theo frowned, confused.  Hermione rolled her eyes, exasperated.  “It wasn’t a date.”

“That goodnight kiss says otherwise,” Blaise commented giving Hermione a knowing look that caused her to flush furiously.  

“Oh Merlin, you saw that?” she cried, embarrassed.

“No love, he was rather preoccupied by me, but thank you for confirming that little hunch.  Susan owes us ten galleons,” Theo grinned as Hermione pulled one of the cushions out from under him and began to beat him with it.  

“I don’t know what you are laughing at, you are no better!” she cried, smacking Blaise with it.

“Calm yourself, woman, Matilda Truffle Laura Ashley does not benefit from Merlot!” he laughed as he held his glass away from the sofa.  With a huff, Hermione dropped into an armchair, glaring contemptuously at them both.

“It wasn’t a date.”

Blaise grinned.  “Yeah, keep telling yourself that, love.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

**January 2011**

 

The snow-covered gravel crunched under foot as Hermione strode down the footpath to Draco’s front door.  Shifting the box she was carrying onto her hip awkwardly, she reached up for the heavy brass knocker as the door opened.  Looking down, her eyes met the angry frown of Draco’s house elf.

“Master Draco is not liking guests who do not owl first,” he informed her curtly.

“Yes, I remember, sorry,” Hermione apologised, looking up as Draco strode out from his study.

“It’s alright, Herb.  Miss Granger is welcome here any time,” Draco informed the elf kindly.

“Yes Master Draco,” Herb replied with a deep bow before trotting away, muttering under his breath.

Hermione raised an eyebrow as she watched the elf disappear.

“Don’t mind him,” chuckled Draco.  “What’s that you have there?” he gestured to the box she had almost forgotten she was carrying as they made their way into his study.

“Oh, um, it’s some files from the Ministry,” she replied, flushing slightly.  “It’s what I thought you could help with.  That is if you still want to..” her words trailed off as she set the box down on his desk, nervously pushing her hair back behind her ears.

 

Draco smiled as he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.  Hermione glanced at his hand as her heart started to beat faster, the unexpected warmth of his hand spreading as he gave her shoulder a slight squeeze.

“Of course I still want to help,” he told her.  

Hermione nodded, reaching into the box and pulling out the files.  “Some of these have not been touched in fifty years,” she informed him as he sat down, opening the first file.  “I have been trying to find a way to help Stefan in particular,” she turned to him and Draco looked up from the file, their eyes meeting.  “I recall that you are particularly gifted at potions.”

Draco chuckled.  “Well with Snape as my godfather, it would be hard not to be,” he replied before frowning.  “But if his condition has been known for some time,” he paused as he reached for one of the oldest files, the report inside stamped by the Ministry for Magic, Cairo. “Surely every avenue has been explored?”

Hermione shook her head.  “No.  All my research suggests that people were too frightened to do anything for these children,” she replied, her sad tone laced with bitterness.  “They feared them so they stayed away and did nothing to help,” she sighed. 

Beside her, Draco nodded his understanding as he began to read.

 

Hermione sat patiently while Draco read the summary of her research, eyebrows furrowed in thought.  “I think this is definitely something I could help with,” he told her. Hermione sighed with relief.  “But this is complex dark magic, older than anything I have ever experienced.”  She caught the way he unconsciously rubbed his left arm, but said nothing.  He glanced up at his bookcase, his frown deepening.  Hermione watched, enthralled by his focused energy as he strode over, pulling several volumes down and sending them over to the desk in front of her.

“These were Father’s,” he commented, causing Hermione to still her hand, uncertain whether she should open them.  “They are perfectly safe,” he reassured her, sensing her unease.  “After the war,” he paused, swallowing hard,  “I went through every book, every item, and if I couldn’t make it safe I got rid of it.”  Hermione watched him shudder slightly.  “I know it doesn’t make up for what happened, but I want no part in any of it happening again,” he told her, his voice low but sincere.  She reached out for his hand, as he sat back down and reached for one of the books, silently giving it a squeeze.  He returned the gesture, lacing his fingers in hers.  Hermione thought she should find the action strange, but she didn’t and the realisation of that made it hard for her to concentrate on what he was saying as he opened the book.

“I don’t think you would have come across this,” he told her, turning the open book for her to see, pushing it across the desk.

Hermione shook her head.  As she read, Draco spoke.

“I would need to spend some time with Stefan to know where to start.”

Hermione looked up, trying to ignore the way her heart pounded.  “Of course.”

* * *

Susan pressed her lips together tight, trying to suppress the laughter that welled up inside her, sprinkling tea leaves into the teapot.

“What?” Hermione hissed.

Susan swallowed back her laugh, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

“Nothing,” she replied airily, glancing sidelong at Hermione who was narrowing her eyes at her. 

Susan turned around leaning on the counter.  “So this isn’t a date either then?”

“Of course it’s not a date,” Hermione retorted.  “He’s just coming here for dinner.”

Susan nodded, her smile giving away her disbelief.  “If you say so.”

“You are ridiculous.  He is coming here for dinner to get to know Stefan!” Hermione huffed as she handed Susan her favourite cup.

“I see,” Susan replied, stifling a giggle & causing Hermione to scowl.  “So if it’s not a date, explain the hand holding.”

Hermione flushed a deep shade of crimson.  “I don’t… I can’t explain that.”

“It’s a date.”

“No, it’s not!”

Susan handed Hermione her tea.  “Oh, drink this and calm down, I am only teasing,” she smiled as they sat down at the kitchen table.

“Seriously though, it sounds very much like he wants to spend time with you as much as he wants to get to know Stefan.”

Hermione waved dismissively as she reached for The Prophet, opening the paper to the daily puzzles.  “No, he just needs to get to know Stefan so that he understands the dark energy a bit better.  Then he would be better able to help.”

Susan regarded Hermione over the edge of her tea cup as she sipped.  Placing the cup back on the saucer she sat back, observing the curly haired witch carefully.  Dragging her teeth over the plump flesh of her bottom lip she took a moment to consider whether she should ask the question that had been burning in her for some time.

“Hermione?” she began, pausing as Hermione looked up from the paper.  “Can I ask you a question?”

Hermione smiled.  “Of course.”

“Why are you so quick to dismiss the way Draco clearly feels about you?” Susan asked, holding Hermione’s gaze.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she answered, a little too quickly.  

Susan noted the way Hermione’s neck flushed.  “Draco clearly has feelings for you.  You forget that before you confronted him - which wasn’t the best move, however it turned out - he had invited you out for coffee….”

“As friends!” Hermione cried, cutting Susan off.

Susan tilted her head.  “Really?” she asked as Hermione broke the eye contact that was starting to feel overwhelmingly intense.

 

Neither woman spoke for several minutes.  Finally Susan took up her tea cup, pausing just before her lips.  “Okay, answer me this then: Are you telling me you are not in the slightest bit attracted to Draco Malfoy?”

Hermione’s flush deepened.  “I don’t see...what that… has to do with anything…” she spluttered, nervously.

“Everything: It has everything to do with it, because Draco is definitely attracted to you,” Susan replied before finishing her tea.  “Just something to think about,” she shrugged as she got up from the kitchen table.  

Hermione sat at a loss for words as Susan gave a little flick of her wand, scourgifying her teacup and sending it to the cupboard before leaving the kitchen - and Hermione to her thoughts.

  
  


After dinner, Draco went through to the lounge while Hermione started washing the dishes the muggle way.

“I know what you’re doing,” Susan whispered as she nudged her playfully with her hip, picking up a tea towel.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Hermione replied haughtily, pushing her nose up in the air for added effect.

Susan hummed her mocking retort, raising her eyebrows as she nodded.  “Keep telling yourself that, girl,” she smiled.

 

Finishing the dishes, she filled the kettle ready to set it to boil.  As she set it on the stove she heard Draco call out somewhat frustratedly.

“Hermione, would you get in here please?”

Sharing a worried look with Susan, Hermione rushed into the lounge, her face contorting with confusion as she took in the sight of Stefan’s wide grin and Draco almost literally tearing his hair out.

“What in the name of Merlin…” she whispered.

 

Draco turned to face Hermione, his jacket now off, sleeves rolled up to show his tattooed forearms, his tie loosened.  Hermione’s eyes fell on his arms, distracting her momentarily as she realised two notions simultaneously: she couldn’t see his dark mark and she didn’t know he had tattoos.  For a moment she was entranced by the way the magic in the ink made them shimmer and move with his emotions.  Hermione shook her head slightly, her thoughts returning to the situation at hand.

“What’s wrong, Draco?” she asked, seeing no obvious reason for his apparent distress.

“I need your help,” he told her, his voice thick with sincerity.

Hermione furrowed her brows.

“I cannot lose to the kid,” Draco continued as Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Oh Merlin, you are as bad as Blaise!” she snapped, her hands going to her hips in a pose that reminded Draco of the formidable women he had known in his life: his mother, his aunt, and, odd as the thought seemed to Draco, Molly Weasley.

“And ‘the kid’ has a name: Stefan.  Stefan happens to be very good at Wizard’s Chess!” she cried before turning on her heel and returning to the kitchen.

 

“I don’t know what you are sniggering about,” she hissed as she attempted to ignore the grinning Susan, who was now pulling tea down from the cupboard.

“Nothing,” Susan replied, trying not to laugh.  “Nothing at all.” She stole a sidelong glance at Hermione.  “Just that you sound like a married couple already.”

“That’s enough!” Hermione snapped, slamming a teaspoon down on the counter.  “There is nothing going on between me and Draco….” her words trailed off as she turned to see Draco standing in the doorway, his face betraying for a split second a level of disappointment that made Hermione’s heart ache.

 

“Stefan won.  Checked me in three moves, two more for checkmate.  He really is good.  I should go,” he told her, his words unusually disjointed as he put his jacket on and made his way over to the floo.

“Draco, wait…” Hermione began, her words cut off by the roar of the floo.

Hermione threw Susan a look before following him, tumbling out in Draco’s study as he poured himself a firewhiskey.

“Draco…” Hermione began, her voice quiet as she steadied herself.  Looking up, Draco glared at her reflection in the mirror as he screwed the cap back on the firewhiskey.

Nervously Hermione brushed a loose curl back behind her ear and Draco cursed himself for finding the action endearing.

“Listen, Granger,” he began, his tone clipped.  “It’s fine.  I now know where the boundaries of our  _ working relationship _ are; I was hitherto unaware that you resented my presence….”

“Resented?” Hermione cut him off, astonished.  “Resented?” she repeated, the word feeling alien as it rolled from her mouth.

“Yes, resented..” he began curtly, standing ramrod straight as he continued to regard her reflection, his back remaining turned resolutely towards her.

“How can you think that?” Hermione whispered, stepping towards him.

Draco curled his lip as he scoffed.  “I heard it in your tone,” he replied before taking a sip of his drink.

 

Hermione’s jaw hung open as Draco finally turned around to face her.

“I was rather under the impression that we were enjoying one another’s company; that there was more to this,” he gestured with his glass to the space between them, “that it was more than simply  _ business _ .”  Draco laughed mockingly.  “But then you did cancel our date.”

Hermione’s brow furrowed deeper.  “What date?”

“Coffee.  The day you showed up here.  Unannounced.  With your little announcement regarding your knowledge of my confidential avow.”  He watched realisation dawn on her face.

“That was a date?” she whispered, eyebrows raising so high he thought they almost disappeared.

“Well usually when one person is attracted to another and they invite said person out for coffee, it is a date,” he replied sarcastically.

“You’re attracted to me?” 

“Well done for underlining the obvious,” Draco scoffed, his hands clapping together in mocking applause.

“You’re an arse, Malfoy.”

“And how, pray tell, do you work that out?” he asked, his mocking face contorting to a scowl his father would have been proud of, the accompanying flush less so.

“I do not resent you and I was unaware of how you felt.  You could have been more open with me…”

“What, are we fourteen now? Am I supposed to slip you a note in the library and ask you to the ball?” he scoffed.

Now it was Hermione’s turn to blush as she recalled the way Viktor Krum had asked her to the Yule Ball under the ever watchful glare of Draco Malfoy, who had been too stunned by the Quidditch Star’s actions to mock them at the time.

“No! Try being a grown up.  Try telling people how you feel.  Try honesty.  Try openness.  Try being less of an arrogant arse and having an actual conversation,” she cried before turning on her heel and disappearing back to the cottage.

 

Draco sighed, his hand carding through his blond locks as he made his way over to the desk, pulling parchment and a quill towards himself.  Setting his tumbler down he penned a note before calling for his owl.

“Here,” he instructed the owl.  “Take this to the stubborn witch and do not leave without a reply.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my wonderful team of alpha readers and my dedicated beta. Updates will come every other Friday.


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